The Blackberry Cobbler Affair
by 88Keys
Summary: Sometimes, dessert can be deadly. And sometimes, the wrong person gets hurt in the process. Written for the Psychfic 2010 Secret Santa Fic Exchange. For Kieri, who requested Shawn/Henry bonding, with some whump and humor thrown in for good measure.
1. Chapter 1

The Blackberry Cobbler Affair

Psychfic 2010 Secret Santa Exchange

For Kieri

* * *

"Good Morning, Gus!" Shawn said brightly as he entered the Psych office.

Gus looked up from his laptop and rolled his eyes. "'Morning' ends at 11:59 am. It's three in the afternoon, Shawn."

"Picky, picky. Can't you just be grateful that someone is giving you a warm and kind greeting?"

"Whatever. Where have you been all day? Wait, let me guess. You just woke up twenty minutes ago," Gus said accusingly.

Shawn put a hand to his chest, looking hurt. "Are you accusing me of being lazy? I'll have you know that I was up _all night_ working on the Bridget Lear case."

"You mean you were up all night following Bridget Lear's cheating boyfriend around."

"Yes, like I said. I was working."

"And?"

"And, she was right about him. I caught Mr. Simon Quinn taking not one but two women back to his place last night. And I don't think they were there to play Bridge."

Gus nodded. "You need an even number to play Bridge."

"Exactly!" Shawn flopped into his chair and powered up his computer to check his email. "I delivered the evidence to her this morning and then went home to catch up on my sleep. I was exhausted after working tirelessly to catch yet another cheating scumbag. Granted, he's a cheating scumbag who clearly has game. Which is more than I can say for you."

Gus narrowed his eyes and looked annoyed. "I have more game than the entire NBA, Shawn."

Shawn looked confused for a second, then shook his head. "No, I mean the part about working tirelessly. Sorry; my insults came out in the wrong order. What have you been doing all day?" He raised his hand to his temple, as if divining information. "The spirits tell me that you're currently playing Bejeweled 2, and that you have been playing since 10 am. You can't seem to get past level four."

Gus quickly shut the Bejeweled window on his laptop's browser. "No, I started work at 8:30 this morning. Caught up my entire route. I've only been here about half an hour."

"Any new cases?" Shawn asked as he scrolled through emails promising cheap prescription drugs, hot single women, and miracle weight-loss pills.

"Just another woman wanting us to follow her husband around. I thought we weren't going to take any more of these cheating cases, Shawn. We're better than that. We solve real crimes."

"The chief hasn't called us in almost two weeks, Gus. I can't make real crimes happen for us to solve. Well, I could, but that would be a crime in and of itself. And then I would have to accuse myself, and let myself be arrested and thrown in jail. Frankly, all that work would be exhausting. And Lassie would enjoy it too much."

"You know that's right."

Shawn turned from his computer and began sorting through the pile of envelopes in the "IN" mail box on his desk. He tried to keep the place as messy as possible, but Gus kept going around and trying to organize everything. In boxes, out boxes, file folders, filing cabinets. It was like living with his Dad again.

"Oh, yeah. You did get a package."

Shawn looked up, interested. "What is it?"

"How should I know?"

"Didn't you open it?"

"No," Gus said indignantly. "Some delivery guy dropped it off right after I got here. It was addressed to you. I don't open other people's mail." He picked up the plain white cardboard box from a table on the side of the room and carefully handed it to Shawn. "It smells delicious, though."

Shawn studied the box in his hands. It was over a foot long and a few inches deep. The top was stamped with a gold seal proudly proclaiming "Copper Kettle Bakery." Taped to the box was a thank-you note with Shawn's name written on it in black pen. The inside of the card read: "Thank you for everything you did for me. XOXO, Bridget."

Shawn set the box down on his desk and pulled off the lid. His eyes widened in delight. "Blackberry cobbler!" He took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the heavenly aroma of tangy blackberries and delicate crust.

He glanced over at Gus, who was watching him with a bemused expression on his face. "Gus, look! It's like we're old-fashioned country doctors who get paid with pies and milk and chickens and stuff."

Gus frowned. "I hope she's planning to pay us with an actual check at some point."

"And did you see what she wrote? 'XOXO.' Hugs and kisses, Gus. You think she meant that literally?"

"I think she just got out of a bad relationship and is vulnerable right now. At best, you would be a temporary rebound guy."

Shawn looked even more delighted. "I love being the rebound guy." He looked around for a spoon, ready to dig into the sweet treat.

"Well, her timing is good. You can take that cobbler with us tonight."

"We're going somewhere tonight? Somewhere where cobbler will be needed?"

Gus nodded. "You're supposed to have dinner with your Dad tonight. You roped me into going, too. In fact," he glanced at his watch, "we're supposed to be there in half an hour. He wants you to help him move some stuff out of the garage first. Remember?"

Shawn had finally found a spoon and had made it back to his desk. At Gus's words he stopped, hand in mid-air over the dessert. "I had forgotten, until you brought it up. Thanks a lot, Gus. And I still don't see what this has to do with my cobbler. The cobbler that Bridget Lear sent to me, and me only, with hugs and kisses attached."

Gus shrugged. "It might be a nice gesture to share. He feeds us a lot, and we never bring anything. Well, _you_ never bring anything."

Shawn took one last longing look at the cobbler and sighed. "Fine," he said, dropping the spoon and pushing the box lid back down. "We might as well go ahead and go now."

"Bringing dessert _and_ getting there early? Are you sure you Dad will even recognize you?" Gus teased as they locked up the office and headed to his car.

* * *

"You're early," Henry said accusingly as he opened the front door.

Shawn shrugged. "I can leave and come back in a few hours if you want."

Henry rolled his eyes and motioned his son and his friend inside. "You brought dessert, too? Who are you, and what have you done with my son?"

Shawn set the box down on the kitchen counter. He raised a hand to his heart, as if wounded. "I'll have you know I spent all day baking this. It was supposed to be a special treat, just for my pop. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Henry glanced at the white box sitting on his counter. "And you just happened to put it in a box that says 'Copper Kettle Bakery' on it?"

Shawn turned away and lifted the lid. Once again, the tantalizingly sweet aroma wafted out and tickled his nostrils. He grabbed a spoon from the dish rack and prepared to dive in. His hand was almost to the crust when he felt a larger, meatier hand grab his wrist.

"Uh-uh, kid. Work before play. Garage before dessert."

Shawn glared at his father and tried to tug his wrist away, but Henry's grip held firm. "I'm not 12 anymore, Dad. I'm a grown man. I can have dessert first if I want. That's part of being an adult."

"So is responsibility," his father lectured, pulling Shawn's hand away. "You and Gus get your butts out to the garage and help me move those boxes full of your old junk. Unless you want it piled up for the garbage man to pick up tomorrow."

Shawn could feel his mouth watering involuntarily, like Pavlov's dog, as he stared at the cobbler. He gave a long exaggerated sigh of exasperation, but obediently shut the box lid. "Fine. Whatever. Come on, Gus. Maybe we'll find those Voltron action figures I've been looking for. They're probably worth thousands of dollars by now."

"Those were my action figures, Shawn."

"No, you never took yours out of the boxes. You were the only eight year-old that was worried about the resale value of your toys…"

Henry chuckled at the argument that gradually faded from earshot as his son and his friend headed to the garage. Glancing behind him to make sure they were out of visual range, he picked up the discarded spoon and lifted the lid. The cobbler did look delicious. Carefully he broke through the crust with the spoon and pulled up a small bite. Mmmm… sweet, tangy, blackberry goodness seemed to dance in his mouth. He took another, larger bite, then carefully moved the crust around to cover the hole. Despite his best efforts, the crust still looked disturbed. There was no way his observant son would miss that. He would have to make sure to cut the dessert himself, so Shawn wouldn't know that he had cheated.

Henry tossed the dirty spoon into the sink and went to join the boys in the garage. Moving the cartons of Shawn's old junk out shouldn't take too long. That is, as long as Shawn didn't turn it into a two-hour trip down memory lane by taking every item out of every box and giving them a ten-minute reenactment of whatever show or movie it was from.

Twenty minutes later, Henry was finding his fears confirmed. The first box Shawn and Gus had found contained cassette tapes of some of their favorite tunes from the 80's. The boys were loudly belting out their favorite songs from each album, and it was giving Henry a headache. In fact, his headache had come on quite suddenly within the last ten minutes and seemed to be growing steadily worse. Then again, being around Shawn for that long usually had that effect on Henry.

"Taaaaake onnnnn meeeeeee!" Shawn sang loudly, drawing out the words.

"Take! On! Me!" Gus interjected.

"Could you two keep it down?" Henry complained. His head was really starting to pound. He paced across the room, looking for more boxes to move. But which one had he been going for? What was he doing again? It suddenly seemed hard to remember. His head _hurt,_ and his stomach was churning and rolling, making him feel sick.

Shawn and Gus looked at each other.

"Taaaaake meeeee onnnnn!" Shawn started again.

"Take! On! Me!"

Henry took a breath, determined to give them both a thorough tounge-lashing. But the breath didn't seem to want to go into his lungs the way it should. He took another shallow breath, then another, then another in rapid succession. He could hear his heart beating loudly and too quickly in his chest. And his knees were shaking…

"I'llllll beeeee gonnnnnne!" Shawn sang happily, then turned to his best friend to deliver the high notes. But Gus was watching Henry.

"Mr. Spencer?"

Shawn turned just in time to see his father drop to his knees and vomit onto over the garage floor.

"Geez, Dad…I didn't think it was that bad."

Henry tried to answer, but he still couldn't catch his breath. He felt week, too weak to even stay on his knees. He leaned over, letting his body fall to his left side, away from the vomit puddle in front of him.

Distantly, he heard their shouts of "Dad!' and "Mr. Spencer," barely audible over the sound of his pounding heart. But he couldn't respond. No words would come out. He was aware of Shawn and Gus kneeling next to him and rolling him carefully onto his back. He felt someone, most likely his son, grip his shaking hand. He tried to squeeze back but he was too weak. He could only gasp for breath as his vision grew darker and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Shawn stared, horrified, as his father passed out in front of him. He gripped his dad's hand harder, but got no response. "Dad? Dad?!"

Nothing.

Gus knelt across from him and felt Henry's neck. "He's got a pulse, but it's really fast." He leaned down next to Henry's mouth. "He's breathing really fast, too. And shallowly."

Shawn continued to stare. He couldn't think, couldn't figure out what he should be doing to help. His dad was just lying there, unmoving. He had never, _ever_ seen his father so helpless before.

Gus pulled back from Henry's face and furrowed his brows, confused. He leaned in again and sniffed, and his eyes widened.

"Almonds…" he mumbled. Lifting his head, he looked Shawn directly in the eyes.

"Shawn, call an ambulance."

Shawn blinked a couple of times, confused.

"Shawn! Call 911. Now."

Shawn finally seemed to understand as he reached into his pocket. "Is he having a heart attack?"

"I don't think so." Gus rose up to his feet and turned to run out of the garage.

"Wait! Where are you going?!"

"To get my sample case," Gus explained calmly. "I may have something that can help slow the spread of the poison."

Shawn looked up, eyes wide, as he hit the "SEND" button on his phone. "Poison?!"

"Yeah. I think he's somehow been poisoned by cyanide."

END CHAPTER ONE


	2. Chapter 2

Gus watched, concerned, as his friend paced the hospital waiting room. They had been there for well an hour, waiting for an update on Henry's condition. He had been rushed directly from the ambulance into the emergency room.

"Maybe you should sit down," Gus suggested. "I'm sure they'll be out any minute now."

Shawn glared at him. "That's what you said twenty minutes ago." He turned and made another pass across the room. "How could this happen, Gus? How could he possibly have been poisoned? And with cyanide?"

"We don't know for sure that he was," Gus pointed out. He stood and stepped in front of Shawn, stopping him as he paced back to Gus's side of the room.

"You seemed pretty sure. How did you know?"

"His breath smelled like bitter almonds," Gus explained. "It's a common sign of cyanide poisoning. Still, Shawn, I could be wrong. Maybe he just has a bad case of the flu."

Shawn was about to retort when they heard the 'click' of the door opening. Up until that point, they had been the only ones in the small waiting room. The door opened to reveal a man and a woman, dressed in business attire, enter the room.

Detective Carlton Lassiter's blue eyes looked surprised for a moment. Then his expression changed to annoyance. "Spencer. Guster. What are you two doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing, Lassie," Shawn replied.

"Hospital called reporting a case of possible cyanide poisoning. They wanted someone to come check it out. O'Hara and I were just about to go home for the evening. I should have known that you two would have something to do with this. Judging by the fact that you're both alive and still standing, I'm guessing neither of you is the victim."

A strange look crossed Shawn's face, but he didn't say anything. Gus glanced at him, then looked back at Lassiter, annoyed.

"Knock it of, for once, Lassiter. It was Shawn's father."

Lassiter looked even more surprised at the news. Juliet gasped and looked at Shawn with concern.

"Oh, Shawn, I'm sorry. The hospital didn't give us any details. Is he all right?"

"We don't know yet," Shawn answered darkly.

Lassiter sighed and pulled out his notebook. "All right. Why don't you tell us what happened. Were you with him when he got sick?"

Shawn didn't answer. He stared slightly past the detective, at the door behind him, as if willing the doctor to come though it.

"Shawn?" Juliet asked.

Shawn shook his head as he realized that all three of them were staring at him. "Sorry. Um, yeah, we were with him."

"OK, Spencer. Start at the beginning and tell me what happened."

Quickly, Shawn explained his father's collapse to the detectives, with Gus occasionally adding details. They were just finishing their account when the door opening again. A short doctor with graying hair walked in.

"Family of Henry Spencer?"

"Right here," Shawn said anxiously. "Is he OK?"

The doctor nodded. "He will be."

All four of them breathed sighs of relief. Juliet smiled and squeezed Shawn's hand. He shot her a grateful smile before looking back at the doctor.

"I'm his son, Shawn," he explained, extending his hand.

The doctor took it and shook it in a firm grip. "Greg Reynolds. It looks like your initial suspicions were correct. Your father did ingest a significant amount of cyanide. Enough to make him become ill and pass out. Cyanide blocks the body's cells from getting oxygen. That's why his breathing and heart rate were affected. You did the right thing by seeking medical attention so quickly. If you had waited much longer, he would have sustained significant damage and may not have survived. We're treating him with nitrates that will help absorb the cyanide so it can pass out of his system without causing further damage. He will have to stay here for a couple of days for observation, but I expect him to make a full recovery."

"Can I see him?"

The doctor nodded. "He's being moved to his own room in the ICU right now. Room 215, I believe. In a few minutes, he should be settled in and you can see him. He will be groggy, though, and he will probably fall asleep and stay that way for a while."

"Thank you, Doctor," Shawn said. He turned to his friend as the doctor exited the room. "Come on, Gus."

"Wait, Spencer," Lassiter said, holding up a hand. "You told us what happened, but you didn't tell us how the hell your father managed to ingest cyanide."

Shawn shook his head. "I have no idea."

"Did you see him eat or drink anything?" Juliet asked.

"No, but we hadn't been there very long when he got sick. We don't know what he might have eaten before we got there."

"And he was away from us for a few minutes," Gus added quickly. "He stayed behind in the kitchen when we went out to the garage."

Shawn's eyes widened as he remember the argument he had had with his father. "Gus...the cobbler."

"What cobbler?" Lassiter asked.

"One of our clients sent me a blackberry cobbler today as a thank-you," Shawn explained. "I took it to my Dad's because we were supposed to have dinner with him tonight."

"And you think it might have been poisoned?"

Shawn glared at the detective. "At the time that I took it to my father's house so we could all eat it, no. Now, I don't know."

Lassiter scowled. "Did you see your father eat any of this cobbler?"

Shawn squinted, remembering. "No. But that doesn't mean he didn't." He turned to look at Gus, eyes wide. "That's why he wouldn't let me eat any of it before we started on the garage. He wanted it for himself."

Gus nodded. "Sounds about right."

"Where was this cobbler the last time you saw it?" Juliet asked.

"Sitting on the counter in my Dad's kitchen in a white box. It's probably still there."

"All right," Lassiter broke in. "I'll get a forensics team over to Spencer's house. I'll have them check out the cobbler and everything in the fridge or out on the counter. O'Hara, go with Shawn. See if you can ask Henry some questions."

Juliet looked worried. "Now, Carlton? Are you sure this is the best time?"

"We need to know what he ate and drank today." At her still-concerned expression, he sighed. "Make it quick. If he's not up to it, we can talk to him later." With a curt nod, he strode out of the room purposefully, not bothering to say goodbye.

Shawn took a step towards the door, but Juliet grabbed his arm. "Wait, Shawn. I need to know how you got this cobbler. Was it delivered to you?"

Shawn looked at Gus, who answered. "Yes. It was delivered to our office. I was the only one there when it came in."

"All right. Tell me everything you can remember about who delivered it, who it was from, and what time it came in." She turned to Shawn, still looking concerned. "Why don't you go ahead and see your Dad? I can talk to him when you're done, if he's still awake. If not, it can wait."

Shawn nodded. "Thanks, Jules." He stepped quickly out the door into the hallway.

"Try to find out what he ate!" Juliet called after him.

Shawn hesitated outside the door to room 215. The door was open a little bit. He peeked in and saw a nurse tending to his father. She was standing at the head of the bed, blocking his view.

Shawn tried to reach for the door, to push it open and walk in, but his body refused to respond. He looked down at his hand and noticed it was shaking slightly. What was wrong with him? He felt timid and afraid.

The nurse turned and noticed him standing by the door. She was middle-aged, with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled and motioned him into the room. No way out now.

Shawn pushed the door open and took a few steps in. He could see is father clearly now. An oxygen tube ran across his face, into his nostrils. Next to the bed was an IV stand holding a bag of clear liquid, which ran into his father's left arm. Various monitors flashed numbers indicating heart rate and blood pressure, but Shawn couldn't process them. He stared at his father's pale face and closed eyes. He looked sickly, weak. Almost dead. He had never seen his father look so weak and frail before. His dad had always been the large, tough, no-nonsense cop who rarely showed weakness. Seeing him lying in a hospital bed was almost more terrifying than seeing him passed out on the garage floor, gasping for breath.

The nurse noticed his expression and stepped closer to him. "He's going to be fine," she reassured him. "The medicine is doing its job. He just needs time to rest."

Shawn tore his eyes away from his father to look at her, thankful for the momentary distraction. "Can I talk to him?"

She nodded. "Of course. But he may be too groggy to respond. Or he may fall completely asleep here in a few minutes. He's on a lot of medication."

Shawn nodded back. "Thank you."

She smiled again and exited the room, leaving him alone with his father.

Shawn took a deep breath and stepped up next to the bed. Why was he so nervous? This was silly. The doctor said he would be fine. He swallowed hard and took in another deep breath before speaking.

"Dad?"

Henry blinked a couple of times, but didn't respond. His eyes searched the room, slowly.

"Dad?" Shawn reached out and tapped his dad's right hand with his fingers. "Dad? Can you hear me?"

Henry turned towards the sound and the touch. Finally his eyes met his son's. "Shawn," he said softly.

"Hey, Dad."

Henry's eyes flicked around the room again. "Where am I?"

"Valley Hospital."

Henry glanced at the IV and the heart monitor. "What happened?" He spoke slowly and breathed deeply before speaking, as if each word took great effort to produce.

Shawn let his hand rest on top of his father's. "You collapsed at home, in the garage. Don't you remember?"

Henry wrinkled his brow, as if thinking. Finally, he nodded.

"What did...doc say?"

Shawn gripped his father's fingers. "They, um...they think you were poisoned."

Shawn watched his father's face go from confused to alarmed. His blue eyes opened wide as he looked directly at his son's face.

"Poisoned? H-How?"

"We're not sure. Dad, what was the last thing you ate today? Can you remember?"

Henry blinked a few more times and furrowed his brow again. Shawn could see that he was trying to think, but he could tell how tired he was as well. His father was fading fast. Finally, he took another breath and spoke again.

"Just that...dessert you brought."

_You brought._ Though he knew they hadn't been meant as an accusation, the words stung him. He had brought the dessert that had poisoned his own father. _He nearly died, because of me..._

Shawn sighed. "Anything else?"

His father managed a weak shake of his head. "Not since...lunchtime." Suddenly his eyes opened wide, as if remembering something. He looked at Shawn, concerned. "You didn't..."

"No," Shawn answered quickly. "I didn't eat any of it. Neither did Gus."

Henry nodded and closed his eyes, clearly exhausted. They didn't open again.

Shawn squeezed his father's hand again. "OK, Dad. Just rest now. You're...you're going to be OK. I'll find who did this. I promise."

He watched his father breathe in and out for a moment, as if to reassure himself that he was, in fact, still breathing. Sure his father was finally asleep, Shawn tried to pull his hand away to go. He was surprised when he felt Henry's fingers tighten around his own. He looked up to see blue eyes watching him intently, a look of worry behind them.

"Shawn." Another breath. "Be careful."

Shawn nodded, returning the squeeze. "I will, Dad."

END CHAPTER


	3. Chapter 3

Gus and Juliet were still in the waiting room when he returned. Gus frowned at the tired, dazed look on Shawn's face. "Shawn?"

"How is he?" Juliet asked.

"Asleep."

"Were you able to find out what he ate today?"

Shawn nodded. "It was definitely the cobbler. He hadn't eaten anything since lunchtime before that. I forgot to ask him what he had then, but it probably doesn't matter, right? I mean, it's probably the last thing he ate."

Juliet nodded. "Cyanide doesn't mess around. If he had eaten it with his lunch he would be..." she trailed off. "I mean, um, yeah...it was probably the cobbler." She pulled out her cell phone, grateful to be able to change the subject. "I'll call Lassiter and meet up with him. They're probably about done at your Dad's house by now. We need to know more about the case you worked, and the client who sent you this thing. Do you want to come with me?"

Shawn thought for a moment. It had been such a long and weird day, he was unsure what to do. "I'll, um, go by the Psych office and get the case file. I'll meet you at the police station after that."

Juliet looked unsure. "Shawn..I'm not sure you should be alone. If that cobbler was poisoned, and it was sent to you, then that means-"

"-that someone is trying to kill me," Shawn finished for her. "I know, Jules. I'll be careful. Besides," he clapped his best friend on the back, "I'll have Gus to protect me."

Gus shook his head. "Maybe you should go with Juliet, Shawn."

Shawn shook his head. He was feeling an increasing need to get away from the sterile, suffocating walls of the hospital. And he didn't want Juliet to see him like this. "I need to get my bike. I left it at Psych. It will only take a few minutes."

Juliet looked unsure, but finally nodded her consent. "OK. But if you're not at the station in an hour, I'm coming after you."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Was that a double entendre of some sort?"

Juliet rolled her eyes, secretly grateful that Shawn was still able to make a joke. "Just be careful. Someone is after you."

By the time they left the hospital, the sun had gone down. Shawn was quiet on the way to the office. Too quiet. Gus glanced over at his friend who was staring out the window into the darkness. Seeing but not seeing. Obviously deep in thought over something. It wasn't hard for his oldest friend to guess what.

"He's going to be OK, Shawn."

"I know," Shawn replied, without turning away from the window. "Thanks to you."

Gus was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you did everything right, Gus. You knew what to do when my dad collapsed. When he collapsed after eating a dessert that I brought to him."

Gus frowned as he gently applied the brakes to stop at a red light. "Shawn, this wasn't you're fault."

"Not directly, maybe, but it still happened because of me." Shawn finally turned from the window to face his friend. "And then, when he got sick, I just stood there. You recognized the signs of poisoning. You got me to call 911. You drove me to the hospital. You even remembered to lock the door to the house behind you on the way out. You did everything right while I just stood there like an idiot."

"You had a bad shock. It's totally normal."

"But if you hadn't been there-"

"-if I hadn't been there, you would have done what you had to do," Gus interrupted gently. "I know you, Shawn. You're quick on your feet. You would have come through in the end."

Shawn's cell phone rang just then, ending their conversation. He picked it up quickly. "Jules?"

"Shawn, you were right. It was the cobbler. Preliminary testing found it was laced with cyanide, and a lot of it. Enough to kill five people. It's a good thing you're Dad didn't eat any more of it."

Shawn shook the memory of his dad lying in the hospital bed out of his mind. He needed to focus. "Did you find any other leads?"

"We're still processing the box and the dish for fingerprints. Copper Kettle bakery said they don't make deliveries, so our perp probably bought the dessert, injected it with cyanide, and delivered it himself."

"Or paid someone else to deliver it," Shawn suggested. "Gus said the delivery guy looked like a high school or college age kid."

"We're combing the area for him, based on Gus's description. Did you get the case file for this Bridget Lear yet?"

"On our way to the office now, Jules. But I highly doubt she would send me a poisoned cobbler and sign her name to it."

"I know. Which means her boyfriend- I mean, ex-boyfriend is the most likely suspect. What did you say his name was?"

"Simon Quinn. He's a grad student at Santa Barbara University."

"I need to know everything that happened when you followed him around last night."

"OK, Jules. We're almost to the office now. We'll be by the station soon."

"All right. Hurry, Shawn."

He hung up the phone, and he and Gus rode in silence the rest of the way to the office. Shawn jumped out of the car almost before it stopped moving.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?" Gus asked from inside the car.

Shawn shook his head. "I want to get my bike. I'll have to go back to the hospital later. I'll meet you at the station."

"How are you going to carry the file?"

"Inside my jacket, the way I always do. It'll be fine." Shawn waved and turned to walk briskly into the office. Not only did he want his bike, he wanted a few minutes alone. He needed to think, and to at least attempt to clear his head. So much had happened in the past 24 hours. He had pulled an all-nighter, caught a cheating boyfriend, slept until 2:00, received a poisoned dessert, accidentally given it to his father, and watched him collapse and nearly die in front of him. It was a lot to take in, and his mind was racing.

Shawn was lost in thought as he entered the Psych office. He didn't sense the presence in the room. Didn't realize that he was not alone until strong, beefy arms grabbed him from behind. One gripped his torso, pinning his right arm down. The other locked around his neck, rendering him unable to turn around and barely able to breathe.

He felt hot, damp breath tickle his ear.

"You're supposed to be dead, psychic."

END CHAPTER


	4. Chapter 4

Shawn tried to twist out of his grasp, but it was useless. The guy was about the same height as him, but much, much stronger. His arms were like thick steel cables, holding him in place. Unable to fight, Shawn turned to his second best weapon, behind his mind. His mouth.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he gasped. His voice sounded weak and choked. Mr. Iron Arms loosened his grip on Shawn's neck just a bit, allowing him to take in the air he needed to speak clearly. "I can fall down and play dead if you want. I'm really good at it. If you just let me go, I'll show you."

"You're not going anywhere, smart-ass."

Shawn squirmed, trying to move his head away. He hated the feeling of this guy's breath in his ear.

"Simon Quinn, I presume?"

"Wow. Maybe you are psychic after all." Quinn leaned in closer, until he was practically licking the inside of Shawn's ear. "What's the matter, Spencer? You don't like blackberry cobbler?"

"I prefer peach, actually."

His captor began walking sideways away from the doorway, dragging Shawn with him. "Too bad for you. You could have died quickly and relatively painlessly. Now, I may just have to take things slow."

Shawn felt anger flare inside him. He clenched his fists and tried to elbow the guy in the stomach, but he couldn't get his arm loose.

"You almost killed my dad, you son of a bitch. I saw what happened to him. It didn't look painless."

"Whoops," Quinn replied, sounding unconcerned. "That was meant for you, not him. But I guess you're good at screwing things up for people. Like you screwed up my relationship with Bridget."

Shawn scowled. "Dude, I'm pretty sure you did a good job of screwing that up all on your own."

Quinn rapidly pulled his right arm away and brought it forward, fist clenched, to punch Shawn in the ribs. He groaned as pain flooded his right side. Before he could try to twist out of his grasp, Quinn had grabbed him once again.

"Bridget is the only woman I ever loved. She wasn't supposed to find out about my...temporary lapse in judgment. If it hadn't been for you, she never would have."

Despite his uncomfortable position, Shawn rolled his eyes. "She was already on to you, man. That's why she came to me in the first place. I just gave her the proof she needed. What did she do? Dump you?"

He felt Quinn's chin brush the back of his head, presumably from nodding. "She didn't waste any time. Showed up at my door at 10 am this morning. I wasn't even awake yet. Showed me the pictures you took last night."

"Smart girl." The key was to stall. Keep him talking. Monologuing, just like the stupid bad guys in the movies. If he didn't show up at the police station soon, Juliet would come looking for him. Still, could he really keep Simon Quinn talking for an hour? The guy seemed really determined.

Out of habit, Shawn tried to lift his left hand to his forehead, but it was blocked by Quinn's arm. "So you bought a cobbler and poisoned it, and made it look like it was from Bridget? Stupid, man. Putting her name on it automatically tied it to this case. You might as well have signed your own name. Or delivered it yourself. Let me guess; you paid some broke high school kid ten bucks to deliver it for you."

"Twenty, actually."

Shawn's mind raced as he talked, trying to figure out a way to escape. He had to get out of Quinn's grasp so he had at least a slim chance of defending himself. He could try to kick him in the knee, but they were so close together he couldn't get much force behind the blow. Maybe stomp on his foot? Such a girly move, but he was getting desperate here.

"But how did you get a hold of cyanide?"

Quinn chuckled. "You're the psychic. You tell me."

Shawn's mind recalled his initial consultation with Bridget Lear. She had told him all about her boyfriend. How smart he was. Driven. A grad student, majoring in business, and..."

"The university," Shawn said as the pieces suddenly flew together. "I see a room...a room with lots of bottles...and those weird burners that are built into the desks. A lab! You studied there...studied chemistry...it was your minor."

"I'll admit it; you're good. But that was your last divination, Spencer."

Quinn's arms suddenly let loose and shoved him forward roughly. Already off-balance, Shawn flew to the ground, landing hard on his right shoulder. The force was enough to roll him over onto his back. He looked up, a million thoughts racing through his mind at once. _Weapon? Shout for help? Kick? Punch? Get the hell out of here?_

Simon Quinn's enraged face and huge hulking form loomed over him. Shawn pushed himself up on his hands and was about to scramble back away from the monster, when he heard a dull _thunk_. Quinn swayed uncertainly for a moment, looking confused. Then his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor. His head came to rest neatly at Shawn's feet.

Shawn looked up, eyes wide. Gus stood just behind where Quinn had been moments ago, a tire iron gripped tightly in his hand. He looked down at the unconscious man smugly.

"Not so tough now, are you, big guy?" He looked past Quinn to where Shawn still lay on the floor. "You all right?"

Shawn blinked a couple of times, confused. "Gus! That was...awesome. But how did you know Quinn was here?"

"I didn't." With his free hand, Gus reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a lime green iPhone. "You left your phone in my car. I thought you would need it, in case the hospital called."

Shawn carefully pushed himself up to a standing position, heart still pounding from his close escape. "Nice work, buddy. I'll call Jules and Lassiter. Tell them we caught the bad guy for them, yet again."

Gus motioned towards the floor. "What do we do with him?"

Shawn reached into a drawer behind him and pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to Gus. "Cuff him. If he wakes up, hit him again."

Gus shook his head. "I don't even know why you have those." He reached down to slap the cuffs on Quinn's large wrists, then hesitated.

"I want all the credit for taking him down, Shawn. Make sure you tell the cops how I knocked him out."

His friend nodded. "No argument this time, buddy. You deserve it."

"You're late," Henry said as Shawn entered his hospital room. "And please tell me you didn't bring your motorcycle to pick me up."

It had been three days since he was poisoned by cyanide. The drug was completely out of his system by now. Henry was ready to get away from the hospital and back to his own home. He was under doctor's orders to take it easy, which he would do. For a day or two, at least. It would be a great opportunity to get his son to wait on him and do chores around the house, if he could manipulate him into it. One way or another, he would get Shawn to finish cleaning out that garage.

Shawn held up Henry's keys. "I went by the house and got your truck. And some clean pants, which I hope you will don as quickly as possible." He tossed the pants to his father, who caught them easily.

"Think I can get Nurse Karen to help me get dressed?"

Shawn shuddered but made no comment.

Henry studied his son carefully. For the past few days, something had been off with Shawn. He had stopped by to see Henry several times, but he seemed uncomfortable and ready to leave the whole time he was there. Henry knew his son didn't like hospitals (who did, really?), but he sensed something more was bothering Shawn. He wasn't his usual mouthy, joking, sarcastic self. Normally, the comment about Nurse Karen would have been answered with a ten-minute diatribe on how much therapy Shawn would need to get the image of his father and the younger nurse out of his mind.

This time, Shawn barely grimaced.

Shawn had turned his back so that his father could pull on the pants and a clean shirt in relative privacy. After he finished dressing, Henry walked up behind his son and gently tapped his shoulder, making Shawn jump.

"Shawn," Henry asked seriously, "what is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Shawn said automatically, turning to face his father.

"You've been awfully quiet the past few days."

Shawn shrugged. "And you're complaining?"

"I'll admit it's a nice change of pace, but I'm starting to wonder where the old Shawn went." Henry stepped in closer. "You weren't worried about your old man, were you?"

"No," Shawn answered quickly. He looked around uncomfortably for a few seconds. "Maybe."

Henry chuckled. "Gave you quite a scare, huh?"

Shawn took a step back. "Yes, fine, OK? Can we just go?"

Henry studied his son's face closely. Reading Shawn's face was a skill Henry had cultivated for over thirty years. He knew every look, every expression, and could read even subtle changes in mood and demeanor. Shawn now had the look that he used to get after he had stolen cookies from the jar. The same one he got after Henry caught him at the arcade playing Pac-Man instead of at school. The same expression both he and Gus had worn after Shawn convinced his best friend to write his history essay in the seventh grade.

"Don't tell me you feel _guilty_ about what happened?"

Shawn took a step back as Henry stepped in closer. "Right now, I'm feeling claustrophobic and a little frightened. You want to back it up a bit there, Pop?"

Henry ignored him. "Shawn, it wasn't your fault."

"What wasn't my fault? You eating a poisoned dessert that I brought to your house?"

"Did you know it was poisoned?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Dad..."

"Answer me. Did you know it was poisoned?"

Shawn looked his father in the eye. "Of course not. But I still brought it, and you still ate it and got sick. You almost..." His voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"But I didn't. And Gus caught the guy."

"I caught the guy."

"I heard Gus knocked him out with a tire iron. He's really getting braver, you know."

Shawn still looked uncertain. It was time for the direct approach. Henry adopted an expression of annoyance.

"Look, Kid, get over yourself. You didn't do this. You were trying to do something nice. Not having had much practice at that, it backfired. But things worked out in the end. You caught the bad guy, and I'm fine, and everything is going to be OK. "

Shawn nodded. Under his hand, Henry felt his son relax a bit.

"And honestly, Shawn, I'm glad I ate the dessert and you didn't. You probably wouldn't have lasted two minutes."

Shawn rolled his eyes again and ducked out from under his father's hand. "Serves you right, trying to eat dessert before dinner. Didn't you used to punish me for doing that?"

The door clicked open and Nurse Karen entered, smiling brightly. "I just need you to sign the release form, Henry, and you can be on your way."

Henry returned the smile as he scribbled his name on the form. "It's been a pleasure, Karen." He ignored his son's disgusted expression as he watched her leave.

Shawn held up the keys again. "Now can we go? I need to go take a shower after seeing that. I feel dirty."

"I'm ready if you are."

As they walked down the hall, Shawn hesitated. "Do you think maybe you could wait in the truck for a few minutes? I want to try to get Nurse Karen's phone number."

Henry grinned and pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. "Save your energy, kid. I already got it."

He had to laugh at his son's horrified expression and the gagging noise he made.

Yep. Things would be back to normal soon.

But first, he would let Shawn work off some of that guilt.

THE END


End file.
